Exactly half an hour later.
Deep within the Gloomy Jungle Hell Instance, the immense black cat boss, known as Shadow Prowler, let out a final, chilling, bloodcurdling shriek that shattered the illusion of the dense jungle. It exploded not just into light, but into a blinding torrent of brilliant orbs before collapsing into a dead pile of virtual polygons.
Thalia stepped back from the fading boss residue, letting out a soft, exhilarated breath. She looked across the clearing at Vincent, her eyes bright with the triumph of an overwhelming victory.
Vincent returned the smile and nodded once, satisfied. They both turned to the system panel, which was already flashing its congratulatory message:
[Congratulations, your team has broken the speedrun record for the 'Gloomy Jungle—Hell Instance', rewarding you with Experience +5000, Gold +5000, and 1 Tier 0 Professional Blind Box (Excellent). Your speedrun record will also be recorded for future generations to admire.
Current Record Time: 28 minutes 19 seconds 07! (Previous Record: 1 hour 13 minutes 37 seconds 25!)
Please decide on your team name. And whether to disclose your name, profession, level, and other information.]
The completion time was a deliberate calculation: less than half the time of the Centaur Clan's Devil's Blade record, but still not their absolute fastest. It was a statement, not an annihilation.
"Ready to throw the gauntlet, Brother?" Thalia whispered, her grin widening.
"Let the Centaurs know exactly who's playing in their sandbox," Vincent replied, and they began to fill in the required public details.
At that very moment, the small, hastily built town surrounding the Gloomy Jungle Instance entrance was a chaotic hub of Tier 0 Professionals. Human Professionals traded equipment, recruited for teams, and shouted prices. A small contingent of Centaur Clan Professionals occupied a separate corner, conducting their own grim business.
Yet, the coexistence was fragile. Near the town's perimeter, a specific group of five hulking Centaur Clan warriors stood motionless. Their faces were grim, their eyes fixed with a chilling, aggressive intensity on the passing humans.
"Are those Centaurs having a contest to see who can look the most murderous?" grumbled a Human Professional who had just walked past the silent sentinels. "They're staring like I just stole their feed bags."
"I know," his companion agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. "They arrived yesterday and haven't moved. I've never seen the Centaur Clan this openly hostile in Long Reach City. It's unsettling."
"Oh, you don't know the reason for the horse-faces' bad mood?" a loud voice interjected.
A nearby team, recognizing the tension, had paused to listen. The speaker, a stocky man with a longbow slung across his back, gave a knowing look.
"You know something, Brother? Spill it. What's the full story?"
The archer leaned in. "It's about the commotion that started the day before yesterday. It was huge news in Iron Fang City, but not everyone here in Long Reach City has caught up."
"What commotion?"
"The appearance of Epic Professionals," the archer whispered, instantly drawing the entire group into a tight circle. "I heard two Human Epic Professionals were discovered in Iron Fang City."
A collective gasp swept through the group. Epic Professionals? The highest, rarest tier of talent, the bedrock upon which humanity's future defense against the alien races rested. To hear of one was rare; to hear of two was almost unthinkable.
"Two of them? Are you serious?" someone stammered, his eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and hope.
The informed archer began to explain the gravity of the situation in low, urgent tones.
"Two Human Epic Professionals emerged, and the moment the Centaur Clan got wind of it, they went into full panic mode. They immediately deployed heavy forces around Iron Fang City, intending to find and assassinate these two human geniuses before they could grow. They even brazenly blockaded the Rabbit Instance—a joint resource."
The stakes were clear: the Centaurs feared the potential of two Epic Professionals more than they valued the fragile peace.
"The official Combat Affairs DepartmentProfessionals in Iron Fang City weren't having it. They fought back, and a fierce, bloody conflict erupted right in the streets of Rabbit Town. We had casualties. They had casualties."
He continued, his voice grim: "Eventually, our own Long Reach City officials had to dispatch reinforcements to support Iron Fang City's defense, barely managing to pull the situation back from a full-scale war. Now, the Rabbit Instance is basically a Centaur exclusive zone, but they've flooded all the Tier 0 Instances, including this one. They know the Epic Professionals are still Tier 0 and are hunting them across both cities."
He pointed subtly to the Centaurs standing motionless. "Those guys aren't guarding the Instance; they're Centaur Clan hunters, staking out the entrances."
A low, outraged roar immediately rumbled through the assembled Human Professionals.
"Holy relics! I must have been sleeping! A conflict like that, and I'm only hearing about it now?"
"Two Epic Professionals... Is it true they broke the Rabbit Instance Hell record? Those times are insane."
"So that's it," another muttered, his face hardening. "These horse-faces are here in Long Reach City to scout for them, hoping to catch them if they transition to this city's Instances. They're terrified."
The weight of the situation—the desperate fear of the Centaur Clan and the incredible potential of the two heroes—settled heavily on the crowd. Epic Professionals were national treasures, the kind of talent that shifted the balance of power between the great races.
"Look," the archer whispered, pointing discreetly toward the center of the town. "The official Combat Affairs Department is here, too. See the badges? They aren't running Instances; they're running protection and surveillance, watching those Centaurs like hawks."
An unmistakable sense of impending storm settled over the town. Every Human Professional knew that the precarious peace was hanging by a thread, stretched thin by the Centaurs' hunger for revenge and their existential fear of humanity's rising power.
The archer lowered his voice further, revealing the crux of the conflict: "I also heard why the Centaurs are so desperate. Those two Human Epic Professionals didn't just escape; they killed a Tier 3 Excellent Professional from the Centaur Clan. This Centaur was a member of the powerful Holy Light Canyon Knights guild and, more importantly, a favored protégé of a highly placed, formidable Centaur General."
Disbelief rippled through the group. "Wait, wait," a heavy-set man gasped, shaking his head. "They're Tier 0 Professionals, right? The record proves that. How could they possibly defy three full tiers and kill a Tier 3 Excellent Professional?"
He shuddered. "The base damage reduction alone for a Tier 3 fighting a Tier 0 is over sixty percent! And an Excellent Professional is just one rank below an Epic! Their skill coefficients and gear are nearly top-tier."
"Exactly," the archer said, his face grave. "It's the very definition of an Epic Professional's power. They are so fundamentally broken that they can overcome that massive tier disparity. That's why the Centaurs are terrified, and that's why they want revenge. They see the future of our Kingdom in those two, a future where such power grows unchecked."
A deep, chilling silence followed. They were shaken by the sheer, devastating force implied by the act: the killing of a highly-ranked, elite enemy by two newcomers. The legend of the Epic Professional was now a tangible, terrifying reality.
After the prolonged silence, a young warrior finally ground his teeth and spoke, his voice thick with controlled rage: "Good kill! The Centaur Clan dares to talk about revenge? Revenge for what? They were the aggressors! If they hadn't blockaded our Instance and hunted our people, their Tier 3 warrior would still be alive. They can kill our Emberlyn Kingdom people without consequence, but when two of our own fight back, suddenly it's a global crisis? Screw them!"
"It's always been this way," another lamented. "The Centaur Clan is simply overbearing. We suffered heavy losses in that conflict, too. My own classmate's older brother was among the dead."
He indicated a figure standing apart from the crowd. "That young man there. His brother died in the fighting near the Rabbit Instance."
All heads turned to see a youth, his shoulders slumped, yet his eyes burning with an intense, bloodshot hatred directed squarely at the distant, silent Centaur sentinels. The depth of his personal sorrow mirrored the collective, historical anguish between the races.
The conflict wasn't just about speed runs and territory; it was about the ten-year war, the countless lives lost, and the deeply ingrained ethnic hatred that simmered beneath the surface of the fragile truce. Both sides knew their coexistence was temporary, a mere pause before the inevitable full-scale war: a final conflict for the survival of either the Emberlyn Kingdom or the complete expulsion of the Centaur Clan and all alien invaders.
The Human Professionals were now agitated, their gazes hardening. But they remained powerless, Tier 0s unable to intervene in a Tier 3 conflict.
Just as the tension reached its breaking point, the atmosphere was violently fractured.
FWOOM!
The entrance to the Gloomy Jungle Instance erupted in a brilliant, blinding blue flash—the universal signal of a successful record break.
Every head whipped around. The silent Centaur Clan sentinels recoiled, their faces instantly twisting from passive hostility to explosive fury.
A shocked cry tore through the human crowd: "Holy relics! The Hell Instance speedrun record! It's been broken!"
Another Professional, checking the rapidly updating digital announcement board, read the banner aloud: "The record breakers… 'Boss' and 'Hill' from Paradise!"
The town exploded into a chaotic buzz of speculation, fear, and excitement.
The faces of the official Combat Affairs DepartmentProfessionals in the town hardened instantly. "They really came here," one murmured, his eyes grim. The two Epic Professionals had officially thrown down the gauntlet in Long Reach City.
Before the official could give an order, the five Centaur sentinels began moving. They weren't walking; they were charging, their hooves thundering on the stone road toward the Instance entrance where Boss and Hill would soon emerge.
"Boss," the young Combat Affairs leader barked into his comms. "The Centaur Clan is mobilizing. No matter what, these human geniuses cannot be found by the Centaurs. We intercept them now. Block them from reaching the exit. Call for immediate official reinforcements!"
Quickly, the dozen or so Human Professionals with badges moved to cut off the Centaurs. They formed a defensive semicircle, blocking the path.
"Halt, everyone," the leader commanded.
Faced with a sudden, coordinated human force, the Centaurs' leader pulled out his phone, his face contorted in an expression of vengeful rage. The call connected instantly.
"Long Reach City, Gloomy Jungle!"
Within seconds, the Centaur-controlled city miles away sprang into organized, lethal action. After just one day, in a completely different location, the same cycle of high-stakes conflict had begun again.